


Our time within the forever

by TheWritingGirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Reader-Insert, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 18,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingGirl/pseuds/TheWritingGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman found her way to the apartment 221C Baker Street, she managed to get along with the inhabitants there....somehow, but deep down she knew that someday, it would happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The countless tears

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update everytime I wrote a chapter and translated it, so please be patient. I also would REALLY appreciate it if you could give some constuctive criticism. That's it, have fun! ;)

A grey, thick fog layed above the british city named London. Covered from the night the humans rested peacefully in their beds, the normal hectic and stressful everyday life long forgotten. A mild wind brushed across the streets and alleys, blurred any signs of the day. But this calmness, if not even silence didn't apply to everyone. No, not everyone slept quiet and without concerns. John, a young soldat who returned to his homeland sat restless in his comfortable armchair. With trembling fingers he wrote another entry for his blog. The shock was deep in his bones, this couldn't only be seen by the clicking of the keys, also his normally annoyed face was now an unhappy mourning expression.

_'...and so I, John H. Watson, declare heavy-heartedly, that our once so smart...no....brilliant consulting detective Sherlock Holmes is deceased.'_

Tears crept into his otherwise so excited eyes. How could he now, after all those adventures the two of them experienced, accustom to a normal life? Endless minutes passed until John moved his hands towards the armrest and pushed himself sluggishly up. 'Here we go', he tought to himself and shifted his stiff limbs towards the door. Shortly he changed words with Mrs. Hudson before he walked outside the stuffy house and into the chilly night. Only a rough breeze whistled around, traveled past the tenant of the 221B Baker Street apartment. A short ride with the cab revealed that also someone else visited a deceased. Without big interest he stared onto the ground, on his way to the grave of his former roommate, even more, of his lost friend.

Half-way to his goal he noticed a person, a young woman. Her (h/l) (h/c) hair line her shoulders, her red anorak hang loosely around them. Her stance showed that she looked at a grave stone, fresh white roses layed before it. Her breath was seen as delicate, white clouds, however her breath was also irregularly. With caring and sensitive arms John placed his left one on her back:  
  
"You are missing him."

Without any stirring she raised her soft voice.  
  
"Don't be stupid, as if I would miss him..."  
  
Lightly the former soldat started chuckling, his right hand softly stroking away some tears that made their way down the woman's cheek.

"Can you remember how it all started...how we met?"

As in slow motion a small smile crept across her lips.  
  
"How could I ever forget the day I met you two goofballs?"


	2. Meeting her

The bell rang. "I'm comming!", was heard from the other side of the door, a clicking of shoes, women's shoes, confirmed it. The dark wooden door opened, behind it an old woman about 78 years old. Her face revealed an adventurous life, her build an ingrained housewife. The pensioner looked at the one before her, a young lady, around 35, her (e/c) eyes lingered on the older across her. "Ahh, you must be the lovely girl I talked to. Come in, it's cold outside!" Mrs. Hudson, how she introduced herself, guided the (h/c) haired woman through the wooden floor of the house to the staircase which lead down. "As I told you on the phone this flat is in need of renovation." The lady behind her smiled shortly and shook her head: "Don't worry about something small like this. I will take care of this little problem." After they visited all rooms and Mrs. Hudson told her about all the small issues this apartment held, she turned around, her warm blue eyes looking into the other ones: "There is another little thing..." A noise was heard. The front door opened and two persons entered the building. "The tenants of 221B, the flat above this one, are rather loud." "Miss Hudson", the once so soft voice became even more smoother: "I wouldn't even have a problem if they were two donkeys with pigheads." The older woman gave a laugh: "Sometimes one of them is like this." A friendly grin spread across the 35 years old: "Then we just need to handle with him." "Please, go on. I haven't seen a person yet who could handle him, except John...Oh, John is his flatmate, a very nice boy."

"Did I just heard my name?" A blonde man, about the same height as the younger lady stepped into the flat, a smile plastered on his face. "John! Let me introduce you to our new neighbor: (y/n) (l/n). (y/n), this is John Watson whom I told you about." A former soldat, probably fought in Afghanistan. The rings under his eyes indicate that he hasn't slept well the past days and his wobbly pose shows that he is hungry.

 

"Nice to meet you Mister Watson."

  
  
"Call me John, Miss (l/n)."

 

"Oh come on, then at least do the same."

 

"Well then, it's nice to meet you too (y/n)."

 

And with that, John H. Watson, a man in his best years and (y/n) (l/n), a mysterious but nice woman had their first encounter. Meanwhile a floor above them the other man looked at the files, his eyes lit up when he found a hint. Excited he stormed out of the apartment, closing the door. "John, I found something. Hurry up or I will leave without you." An disinterested baritone voice was heard. "That was my flatmate Sherlock Holmes...I'll better keep going. We will continue tomorrow!" "Good luck Johnny", Mrs Hudson called, her hand waved as goodbye: "Be careful."A short nod and John disappeared behind the doorframe. "So, when do you want to move in?" "Tomorrow, of course only if there is nothing against it." The old woman started giggling: "You could even start today." Disapproving she shook her head: "I don't want to rush things...oh look at the time! I must go, it was really nice talking to you. I look forward to further conversations." As a matter of fact (y/n) really enjoyed the talk. With elegant steps she slid into the cloudy outside world.

In the meantime John sat beside his flatmate Sherlock. "We have a new-." "Yes, yes, we have a new neighbor, don't interrupt my thinking." The self-styled and only consulting detective stared outside the window of the cab, his mind absent. "What is it today? A murder? A kidnapping? Is there a bomb planter again?" No answer. "Sherlock?" The cab halted and with that the brown locked male rushed outside towards Scotland Yard: "John hurry up I don't want to take roots." With a fast pace Watson followed the taller one, his lips pressed together to avoid an discussion. "There is the 'please punch me in the face' voice again..." Without turning around Sherlock entered the building. "Did you say something?" "Nope." Arrived at their destination they swung open a door and entered the room. "There is the freak", Sally Donovan, a police officer, mumbled, her eyes focused on the two. "As I can see you and Anderson had quite the fun." Sherlocks eyes switched to her and then to the grey haired man before him. "A kid, about 8 years old was found today, dead. No traces left behind how she died or who she is. Her parents didn't called and no one is missing her." "But you wouldn't call us just because of this." John put his hands in his pockets. "No, but we found something related to the case. The kn-" Sherlock grabbed the foil bag: "The part I've been searching for. Gentleman, the case is closed." After explaining everything to Lestrade Sherlock and John stepped outside of the building. "Why did we come here?" Hailing a taxi and entering it Sherlock rubbed his hands: "Just a little warm-up. Our current case needs to rest a bit." Sherlock didn't wanted to admit it but he needed more pieces to complete the puzzle. "Oh look, there is (y/n)!" The detective shot a short glance at her. She was writing something, sitting on a bench and probably freezing. "John I will join you later", and with that he excited the cab. John just sighed, used to the unpredictable Sherlock.

"Lacrimosa dies illa 

Qua resurget ex favilla 

Judicandus homo reus. 

Huic ergo parce, Deus: 

Pie Jesu Domine, 

Dona eis requiem. Amen."

Her melodic voice was heard all over the park. (y/n) wrote a poem. A poem about a man who feared. A man who was broken. A man who wanted to be rescued. "Dies irae. A simple melody." She looked up at the male before her. "Oh, a high-functioning sociopath, a rare encounter. Nice to meet you Mister Holmes." She indicated to the place beside her, which he took. "So, you are the Sherlock Holmes who Mrs. Hudson told me about? Not as interesting as I thought." A bit baffled he eyed her. "Who are you?" A small grin formed on her face. "Not the conversation I hoped for, what a shame. You will find out soon enough sweetie, after all we are neighbors now." Without changing another word she stood up and walked towards the exit. "Oh and Mister Holmes", (y/n) stopped for a short amount of time: "Look at the clock, it will help you." Look at the clock? What does she mea- Ohhhh, stupid Sherlock why did I not see this earlier?

Dropping down in his armchair Sherlock put away the files from the case he just solved. "I see you are back, we got a present." The now in his thinking position sitting male stared at the door: "Throw it away, presents are boring." Stopping in his actions John glared at his flatmate.

"I won't throw away the cake (y/n) made for us."

"Give it to me."

Surprised by the sudden change of mind the shorter man gave him the neatly wrapped present, black wrapping paper and a white bow. Between it was a small letter. As he opened it he took the paper and read out loud:

" ** _To John H. Watson and Sherlock Holmes,_**

**_I made a cake for you, chocolate and mint. It is and old recipe I learned long ago._ **

**_I hope it tastes well. For a good neighborhood.~_ **

**_-(y/n) (l/n)"_ **

Careful the detective opened the present. A brown cake with small green fragments on top now layed on the table. John, who sliced himself the first piece tried a small bite. "Delicious. I like how she mixed the mint in it." A bit curious Sherlock put himself a piece on his plate and also tasted it. The mint and the chocolate harmonize, indeed. The consistency was fluffy and soft, the cake base isn't dry or too big and the smell it emits was delightful. "I don't like it, too much chocolate." John glared in disbelieve at him: "Oh and that's why you eat the whole piece." "That's called decency." Too tired to deal with him John ate up and moved to his room to finally get some sleep. 

"(y/n) (l/n), who are you really?"

After eating another two pieces he also changed into his nightgown, put out the lights and layed down in his bed, his body covered in his blanket.

"Who are you....", and with that Sherlock drifted off to sleep.


	3. Informations

**2 p.m.**

_'Who is the one causing this noise?'_ Annoyed Sherlock stomped to his door, only to be surrounded by laugher. "Why are you talking? Some people try to rest." Inside the living room sat John and Mrs. Hudson, they looked amused. "Oh Sherlock, you are finally awake! I made some tea and biscuits." The older lady pointed to a tray. The smaller man wiped away some tears, different papers layed on the table before him. "We received cases, I read some of them. I think the be-" "John, in five minutes at the door", and with this Sherlock disappeard in his room.  
  
**2:05 p.m.**

Just as the blonde finished putting on his jacket Sherlock dragged him already out of the door. "I can perfectly walk myself!" Stumbling down the stairs the former army doctor landed on his feet. His blue eyes looking with disbelief at the consulting detective. "I would have come along without you tugging me behind!" "That would have took to long." Glaring at the taller male he followed him inside a cap and looked irritated out of the window.

"Can you at least tell me where we are going?"

"Scotland Yard, I'll need to talk to George."

"Greg."

"Right."

"Did something happen?"

No answer.... like most of the times.

**2:25 p.m.**

 

Arrived at their destination they entered the building, spotting the shy Molly Hooper. "Is Lestrade inside his office?" "Yes, but I th-", without letting her finish speaking Sherlock stormed through the corridor towards the lift. Before John followed he mouthed her a quick 'Sorry' and soon ran to catch up. Opening the wooden door Lestrade already expected them, pointing towards the chairs before him. "I don't have any cases for you at the moment." "(y/n) (l/n)." Confused the Detective Inspector raised an eyebrow: "(y/n) (l/n)? Who's that?" Pulling out his phone again Sherlock showed him a picture he secretly took. "Never seen her. Is she someone special?" "I need information about her." Crossing his arms Greg watched the two. "If you want information, why don't you ask her yourself?" John turned to his friend: "Yes, why don't you ask her yourself?" Shooting a short glance at the smaller one beside him Sherlock slightly grinned. Realizing what his intentions were John hold up his hands: "Oh no you can do that yourself!"  
  
**4:00 p.m.**

"So (y/n)....", John sat on a comfortable couch across from her, a cup of tea in his hands: "...how are you?" Drinking a small sip (y/n) looked at him, her (h/l) (h/c) hair still wet from the shower she took. "So far, so good. Just a bit tired." John nodded, putting his drink on the table: "This question may be a bit personal, but where do you know Sherlock from?" Grinning a bit she walked over to the door and opened it, revealing the man himself: "Why doesn't he ask himself?" Stepping into the room and dropping down beside the doctor the dark haired male watched her every move until she sat down too. "How did you know he would be standing there?" "Oh please, every idiot would have seen his shadow under the door. I really am disappointed, I thought you had got better." Clapping his hands together Sherlock bended forward: "Who. Are. You." "(y/n) (l/n). Did you really forget me?", her voice sounded slightly sad: "Do you remember Primary School? When you were six years old?" "Boring. Teacher who explained everything wrong, pupil who were like screaming monkeys and a small schoolyard. The meals in the cafeteria tasted horrible and were probably expired and the most annoying thing: those endless discussions with everyone because I stated the obvious." "And what about her? The girl you told that she wasn't as dumb as the others?" At her mention Sherlocks eyes fixed on the woman before him. "She was a bit cleverer, that's all. She followed me everywhere and was a bit chubby, wore always a smile and tried to keep up with me. In our class room she sat on my right side and when some boys wanted to give me a going-over she stood between us. A perfect example that emotions can change the view of the person, in the negative of course." "In the negative? Please explain." Closing his eyes Sherlock leaned back into the backrest: "She could have played with the other kids, instead she decided  to waste her time to try to be friends with me. In retrospect she wasn't even a bit clever, just slightly above the average." Sorrowful she glanced on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest: "So we weren't friends after all?" Now fully understanding her questions surprise was written over his face: "We?... It is you (y/n)?" Smiling sadly she looked with her (e/c) eyes into his cold blue ones. 

 

** "Hello Sherlock, long time no see." **

 

 


	4. Childhood

_"Be a good girl and take care of yourself, alright?" (y/n) nodded, a big smile plastered on her face: "I will be diligent so I can help all the people!" Before the gates of the school romp parents with their children, some were laughing and some crying. The first day of school was something special for everyone, even for little and brave discoverer. "Don't do any nonsense and find new friends my excited Columbus." Saluting she gave her mother a last nod and ran into the building._

* * *

_Arrived at the new classroom she looked around. A big and green banner hung in the air: ' Welcome in the 1C!'. Some of the pupils talked, some painted, some made new friends already and one or two started eating already, which made her a bit confused since one lesson is only about 45 minutes long. Enthusiastic she sat down in the last row beside a girl with blonde hair and a boy with curly dark brown one, pulling out her pencil case, her neatly covered homework book and the colorful folders. Still a bit tired she yawned one last time before the teacher entered the room and greeted the class._

* * *

_After a little game where everyone introduced themselfes they now had to find a partner and do the task together: "Please search someone you work with, it can be anyone you like." Without hesitation the (h/c) haired girl turned to the boy beside her, who just took a short glance at her before turning to his book again: "And you are?...." "(y/n), (y/n) (l/n). Nice to meet you Sherlock!" She hold out her hand, which he totally ignored. After a moment (y/n) withdrew and eyed him curiously. "Tell me, we just introduced ourselfes, and you don't look stupid... Why did you forgot it already?"Annoyed he rolled his eyes: "I don't need to remember unimportant things, it just fills up your mind", concentrating on the work sheet again he scribbled down the answers._

_"How old was she?"_

_"Who?"_

_"Your dog."_

_A bit sadder she pulled out her pencil. "Eight months... died because of cancer... stupid red animals!" A pout formed on her face. Surprisingly Sherlock snorted slightly, which made (y/n) grin. "That's not funn-" "Class, please give your sheets to me", interrupted by the voice of the teacher she realised that she forgot to fill out the paper. Panicking she grabbed her pencil and was about to write the answers, when she saw that it was already filled out. "You owe me something." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his icey blue orbs looked into her (e/c) ones. "And what?", confused (y/n) returned the glance. "If you really want to get to know me always stay by my side..."_

_**She started laughing.** _

_'Wait, what?!?'_

_(y/n) really laughed wholeheartedly at him. Now it was his turn to look confused: "Did I say something funny?" Grinning she ruffled his locks. "Silly Sherlock...", with an serious face now she cupped his cheeks and stared at him: "Friends do it without a promise, you know?" Quickly she gave him a smile before she walked to the teacher, giving him the papers. As she moved away he hold the places she touched with his own hands: "Friends?_

* * *

_The days and weeks passed, Sherlock and (y/n) became very good friends. On the school ground they played pirates and while the classes were going on they exchanged little papers. On a bright and cloudless summer day they played on the climbing contraption. Sherlock hold a stick, his sword while (y/n) had climbed onto the top, the look-out. "Arrr landsman, can you see something?", expectant he looked up to her. "Captain Sherl, I see an enemy ship at larboard!", her hands balled together to imitate a telescope she looked to her left. "Aye mate! Do you see if it is an french one? We need some rum again!"_

_(y/n) bend forward to get a better look of the 'ship', however she slipped, fell with her arm onto the lowest pole and landed with a loud 'Uff!' onto the ground. His eyes widened as he saw her falling so he ran towards her when she layed on the ground. "(Y/N)! Does it hurt badly?!?" Some tears appeard at the corners of her eyes, but she shook her head and smiled. "No, nothing happened", slowly she stood up, holding the arm: "See? Everything's fine." Sherlock now could see many bruises, some cuts and a big graze,  probably from the landing on the gravel. Angry and hurt because of her lie he glared at her: "Are you trying to take me for a fool?!?" Careful he took the limb and looked closely at it: "Every other kid would have cried out loudly if they  had broke their arm." "Well, it doesn't hurt that- Ouch!" The curly-haired boy layed his cold hand on the bruises and started walking. Wincing she followed him to a teacher who was shocked the moment he saw her._

* * *

_Hours passed and (y/n) sat on a hospital bed, her arm covered in gypsum. Bored she looked out of the window. It was sunny, the blue sky strechted over the entire view. Like in an panoramic image the clear blue mixed with itself with purple, pink, red and yellow. On the bottom she could see some buildings and the London Eye. Lost in thought she was taken back to reality by a nurse: "(y/n) (l/n)? You have an visitor." The blonde woman hold the door open and guided the guest inside the room. Mute he stepped inside the room: Sherlock. Moving to the window, his hands behind his back he overviewed the city. "So, you need to stay here for a few days?" She looked onto her, now interesting, hands. "A week here and two weeks at home." Turning to her he saw her saddened face. "Sorry." Looking up she gave him the warmest smile she could make at that moment: "I should be the one saying sorry, I lied to you... I'm sorry." She  indicated to the free place on her bed, which he hesitately took. Moving his hands in his pockets he pulled out a small, yellow rose. "As a gift to say sorry... the woman in the shop said that this one would be the best, but I wasn't sure-" "William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Those words didn't meant anything good. Afraid he lifted his gaze. 'Did I do something wrong? I knew I should have taken the other ones!'_

_But when he met her eyes he was only greeted with warmth. "Thank you", quickly she placed a small kiss on his cheek: "It's beautiful." Pink, the color of his cheeks as she did it. "Sherl? You okay?" Realization hit him. Quickly he stood up and turned around, his back facing her while he clears his throat. "No problem. Get well, I can't play pirates alone." (y/n) giggled and raised her healthy arm to her forehead to salute: "Aye Sir!" He nodded and paced toward the door, only to be stopped by her voice._

_"Are you visiting me?"_

_"Naturally."_

* * *

_The days passed and (y/n) was now at home. She only needs to stay at home for the next three days until she can go back to school. 'Today Sherl comes over!' Excited she waited for him to arrive, it gets kinda lonely when her parents work until evening. Her arm was nearly healed. It rang, what made her storm to the door and open it. "You need to ask who is it! What if it was some strange guy wanting to kidnap you?" Rubbing the back of her head she led him inside. "Sorry." After he pulled out some work sheets to help her catch up he explained the tasks and how she can answer them. "... and this is how you calculate with plus and minus." Eagerly she wrote it down, her eyes sparkling because of her thirst for knowledge. While she was occupied Sherlock started to observe her. He was amazed by how much enthusiasm she could bring up for such an boring thing and how much fun she has with it. He was happy to finally have an friend, such an amazing friend. A sly smile graced his face, which disappeard as (y/n) stopped writing._

_"Sherl", she looked up at him since he was a bit taller and grinned at him: "Thank you for helping me." He only nodded and stood up, his limbs were tired and tingled. Quickly he strechted to get rid of this unpleasant feeling, his eyes wander to the clock. 5:25 p.m.. "I need to go before my parents worry too much and take away my experiments." A shiver crept down his spine when he remembered the last time not long ago. Three weeks without test tubes, chemicals, which weren't dangerous but he needed them, and without his beloved clipboard! Soon his thoughts were interrupted when (y/n) stroked through his hair: "Don't do anything stupid while I am still away!" Huffing he took his backpack and jacket and walked to the door._

_"I never do anything stupid!"_

_"And what was with-"_

_" **It was only one time!** "_

_She started laughing and poked him with her elbow. "I'm just playing.~" Suddendly he started laughing too, it was rare but he couldn't help it when he was around her._


	5. The Bluish Scarf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't updated for a long time...
> 
> Also: Everything may seem a bit confusing, but it will all be cleared!

"Move out." Sherlock stared with his ice cold eyes into hers. Shocked from the words John raised his voice at him: "Sherlock, you just met an old acquaintance and everything you want for her is to 'move out'?!?" His friends lashing out ignoring the consulting detective continued: "I don't want to see you. You are my past, a mere ghost in my eyes. I can't allow such pity distractions like talking about old days. The only solution is you moving out because I am sure that you want to have a conversation sooner or later." A hint of sorrow flashed shortly in her eyes before they moved to his chest, where an familiar object clung to his neck. "You still have it?"

_December. White flakes fell from the grey wads in the bright sky. It was the penultimate day of school before the holidays, (y/n) and Sherlock met like always at the gates. (y/n) stood there in her blue winter jacket and white plush gloves. Surprisingly was Sherlock late, a hint of worry came over her. He never got ill and when, he surely would have told her. "Where in the world is he?..." She looked at the giant school watch. 'In a few minutes begins the first lesson!' Just as she wanted to go a dark brown locked child. "There you are!" (y/n) took his hands and gave him a welcoming grin before she frowns. "Sherlock, you are shaking! Why don't you wear a winter hat?" He just huffed and dragged her to the building: "I don't need one, I'm fine." Pouting about his answer she looked away, forming a plan. 'How can he be so....Sherlock!'_

_The next day arrived, this time he was the one waiting. Snow plastered the sidewalk, it seemed like a little blanket layed on it. Walking towards him she looked at the beautiful bluish sky. "Hurry up, the teachers doesn't like us being late." Nodding she followed him inside. The last day of school this year, the perfect day for her present._

_Unexpectedly the lessons passed relatively fast. Since it was the last day the teachers decided to watch movies and play games. "What are you doing at christmas, Sherl?" He held his head with his hand and moaned. "My parents will drag me to the relatives we barely see and who are pinching my cheeks while giving me those annoying, itchy jumpers." Her grinning got bigger: "But I am sure you are cute in it!~" Mumbling he looked at the rest of the class, not wanting to meet her eyes: "I am not..."_

_After those.... mostly boring activities the both of them walked outside, where Sherlock started to freeze again. "Sherl? I have something for you. Stay still." From her bagpack she pulled out a bluish scarf. "Here, put this on. It keeps you warm-" "But it is your favorite one. And it is too big!" 'There he goes again!...' With many exertions and nagging she accomplished her task by putting it perfectly around his neck. Satisfied with herself she layed her hands on his shoulders. The last day of school...this means saying goodbye, even if it is just for a few days. The last months (y/n) and Sherlock were always together, like brother and sister. When she needed help with her homework she could count on him explaining it, and when he got cornered by other children his friend protected him, 'this is what friends do' did she always said. "I just wanted to wish you Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year." Since it was time to go for her (y/n) parted her hands from his body and wanted to turn around, what she didn't expected was Sherlock pulling her into a hug and burying his face into her neck. "Sherl?..." Smiling she returned the gesture with laying her arms around him._

_A sudden flash however disrupted them. "Oh darling look! Sherlock has a friend now, maybe even a girlfriend! And with his age!" Quickly the youngest Holmes drew his arms away to glare at his mother: "She is not my girlfriend mom!" Upset he crossed his arms and started pouting, which (y/n) thought was so much more than adorable. But she wasn't the only one looking at the scene. Mycroft silently positioned himself beside her, watching everything unfold before him. "Hello Mycroft, long time no see.~" Giving her a quick and polite smile he turned back to the arguing two. "Indeed. How are your parents?" "Fine as ever." Nodding at her answer he raised an eyebrow when Sherlock started to get louder. "It was only my christmas present for her- Yes she gave me this scarf- No! And could you stop patting me?!?" A honk snapped them back to reality. "I don't want to interrupt but Redbeard needs his walk soon."_

_To (y/n)'s disappointment this was really their goodbye. Mycroft bowed out and sat down in the backseat while their mother took Sherlocks school bag and brought it to the boot. Before Sherlock could say goodbye himself he was surprised by (y/n) planting a quick peck on his lips. "Well then, Merry Christmas. See you at school next year!~" Sheepishly she gave him one last grin and ran off. Saddened that she was gone now he touched his lips. 'What was that?' It felt weird. Really weird, but somehow it made him happy, finally having found someone who cares for him as a friend. "William, do you get in?" Pulled out from his thoughts he got in beside his brother who eyed him up shortly: "A nice friend you have there." The younger one ignored him, he wasn't in the mood to talk about it. "Sherlock." Rolling his eyes he turned around with a groan and glared at his brother. " **What?** " Amused by his reaction Mycroft gave him a short smile before he got serious. "Don't give in to those emotions Sherlock. Caring is not an advantage. Remember it." "The same goes for you and cake." Grinning to himself the curly-haired boy looked outside the window. Moody about this comment Mycroft turned away._  
  
"It does what it needs to do, I don't see the point in throwing it away." Careful the consulting detective watched her every move. Her behavior had changed in the past decades, she now wasn't his (y/n) anymore. _'She never was my (y/n) you idiot!'_ He didn't liked this change. She wasn't the (y/n) he knew, she was somebody else. A different person with her memories. He must get rid of her, no matter what: "As I can see you lost weight, it fits you better." A proud smile crossed her lips. "Even if I need to say that now your face is too long, your arms and legs too muscular and your hair looks like a bird's-nest."

" **Sherlock!** "

Ignoring his flatmate he continued: "Skin too pale, teeth to white, eyebrows too slim and the most annoying thing: this unbearable sense for fashion!" Her 'slim' eyebrow twitched. "In the end a big disaster." Pleased with himself he waited for her hand to make contact with his cheek. He waited but it never came. Confused he gave her an emotionless expression: "Aren't you angry? Don't you want to slap me? Or give a boring speech about beauty?" His questions amused her. She stood up  and crouched before him. "So 'Mister Cheekbone'", John started grinning: "You think that I feel hurt? Oh no...", straightening herself she walked behind the couch and layed her arms on his shoulders and chest, hugging him slightly: "I could never be angry at you. Actually I wanted to apologize." "For what?" 

Now it was her turn to be confused. "I left you alone. I haven't got in touch with you for almost 32 years, you should be the one being angry..." Sherlock chuckled deeply at this: "Oh no, not at all. In fact I should be grateful. Because of your disappearance I finally found out that it is so much more efficient to work alone, without silly emotions and human closeness. As example: Look at John-" "Why me?" "John lets himself being guided by those idiotic feelings which just hurt him in the end and doesn't let him see the true meaning of something." His words hurted her deep in her heart, not because of his own change but because it was her fault...It was her fault that he was now like this, locking his emotions away, in a cage full of hurt. The hurt of loss and sorrow. "Sorry. I am so so sorry." Rolling his eyes he stared with his icey blue orbs into her (e/c) ones: "As I said it helped me. _And don't apologize all the time, it doesn't suit you_ ", even if he mumbled the last part she still heard him. "I missed you, Sherl." There it was again, this annoying tingling in his stomach which he thought was extinguished. He had hoped that he got rid of it after all those years.  He needs to find out why it was there and how he can finally defeat it before it is too late. _'Great, as soon as she is here new irritating things arrived as well!'_

With those thoughts Sherlock jogged out of her flat, leaving (y/n) and John alone.


	6. Meeting Mycroft Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a writers block....
> 
> Sorry...

A week had passed after the incident, John and (y/n) became really good friends and Mrs. Hudson had taken her to her heart. The landlady told the woman everything new like hairstyles, TV shows and changes in her private life. But sometimes the two of them were interrupted by curses, stomping and pistol shots. At the 9th day it was the worst.

 

The two women talked about an old recipe Mrs. Hudson gained from her grandmother when suddendly a loud discussion errupted, directly before the landladys door.

 

„Of course I know what an artery does, I studied it!“

 

„Don't be silly John, it is ovious that you know it. You just don't get the point!“

 

„No Sherlock, you don't get the point of what I tell you!“

 

„I can understand you very well, but I am trying to-“

 

Knowing that they wouldn't stop if (y/n) doesn't interrupt them, she stood up and walked over to the two brawlers.

 

„Boys.“

 

„Shut up!“, replied both men.

 

„Oh how did I failed to see that?!? You know everything! The marvelous consulting detective who's soooo intelligent that he surpasses everyone!“

 

„Of course I am way more smarter than you idiots who see but not observe!“

 

„Boys...“, and again no one listened to her.

 

„I can't believe how stubborn you are!“

 

„And I can't believe why you are upset about it!“

 

„Sherlock, John...“

 

„Not now (y/n)!“

 

Annoyed she put on a smile, took an ear from each of them in her hands and pulled on them. Wincing they followed her movement.

 

„When a lady wants to tell you something you listen, understand?“

 

No answer. She pulled again, this time a bit harder.

 

„I asked you if you understand.“

 

„Yes (y/n)“, replied both of them monotonous.

 

She let go of Sherlock and John, who quickly covered their pulled ears.

 

„Mrs. Hudson and me would want to talk without your hanky-panky. So if you would be two lovely boys and turn down your volume that would be marvelous.“

 

John nodded in understandment and trotted up the stairs. (y/n) wanted to turn around and go to her interlocutor when she noticed that Sherlock eyed her up.

 

„You've changed.“

 

With that he left into the cold evening air of London.

 

In the floor stood (y/n) who was haunted by guilt.

 

„I'm sorry... but I couldn't just come back...“

 

The front door opened again and let in an familiar person.

 

„I hope I don't interrupt something?“

 

Black, slicked back hair, a dark suit, patent leather shoes and an umbrella.

 

„Mycroft!“, she grinned: „You haven't changed a bit!“

 

Smiling he stepped closer.

 

„Of course I haven't. It would be a shame to give up old habits, don't you think? But that isn't what I came for. I wanted to ask if you would like to go for a walk?“

 

(y/n) nodded, took his arm and said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, who just smiled understanding.

 

„Mrs. Hudson“, bowing in her direction Mycroft escorted (y/n) out the door and towards a black car which stood before the entrance. Stepping towards the car door he opened it and gestured for her to sit down.

 

„If you please.“

 

(y/n) started smiling and kissed his cheek.

 

„Still such a gentleman as I can see.“

 

Knowing he raised an eyebrow, amused by her attitude.

 

„It's called etiquette.“

 

„Then I shouldn't reject this act of politeness.“

 

She took his hand and sat down. The door beside her closed and moments later Mycroft took the seat beside her. Giving the driver the location he closed the partition and leaned back against the seat.

 

Minutes passed, in the air was an uncomfortable tension. Finally deciding to break it she asked him something, at least it wouldn't be so quiet anymore.

 

„How are your parents?“

 

„Fine. Mother is now part of a book club. Boring books and inarticulate expressed opinions.“

 

Glancing over at her he saw that she was fixed on the view outside the window.

 

„How are yours?“

 

She just shrugged.

 

„I don't know. I haven't talked with them ever since...“

 

„....(y/n)?“

 

„Mh?“

 

Myroft turned to face her, his eyes turned softer.

 

„Do you want to talk about it?“

 

Flashing him a small smile she nodded: „Of course, but not here.“

 

Awhile they sat in the car, silence was a good friend for them at this moment. When they finally arrived they stood before a seemingly normal house: white, boring front yard and a small mailbox. But as the two of them entered four security guards checked for their identities and escorted them to a private room, which was enveloped in a golden, reddish dance of colors. Sitting down opposite of the other Mycroft dismissed the guards and (y/n) began to talk.

 

„So, I will tell you what happened at the day 30 years ago. The day I broke his heart...“

 

Stopping midsentence she took a breath and closed her eyes, a flash of pain crossed her face:

 

„ **The day he became a sociopath.** “

 


	7. A sociopath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ages to write this, not only because of a writers-block but also because I didn't know at which episode the beginning should take place!

_It was the last day of school, every pupil was really excited to finally have free time_

_and have fun with their new and old friends. The sun blared down into the class room in_

_which (y/n) and Sherlock were located. The windows were opened so a cool breeze could_

_refresh the hot and sticky air into a much more comfortable one. The class chose,_

_that the last day would be a 'everything is possible day'. Games could be brought along,_

_just as costumes. Paintboxes were used and books being read. The teacher, Miss Armsen,_

_sat behind her desk and corrected tests, which she wanted to give the children back later._

 

„ _Miss Armsen?“, a young voice pulled her out of her routine. „What is it, Sherlock?“_

_The curly haired boy, accompanied by his best friend, stood before the teacher's desk._

„ _Could I borrow your dictionary?“ She began to smile, beside the surprised twinkle in her eyes._

_What could a first-grader want with a dictionary? She digged through her bag and pulled out a thick,_

_wrapped book: „Here, just lay it back on my table after you are finished.“_

_Sherlock nodded and walked with (y/n) back to their seats._

 

„ _Sherl? What do we need this book for?“ Taking another book out of the shelf he handed it_

_to her and began to scroll through the other one: „We wanted to find out what I am.“_

_The (h/c) haired girl started pouting. „But I already told you that you are human!“_

_He rolled his eyes: „Of course I am human, don't be silly. But we both can see that..._

_I am not like you, like everyone else. Maybe there are others with the same problem and_

_I'm not alone with this.“ She nodded. After all she wanted to help her best friend as good as she could!_

 

_Minute after minute passed, out of minutes became hours. It was nearly the end of their last_

_day at school when (y/n) found something: „Ou...outc...outcast. Outcast! But you're not_

_an outcast.“ 'Be as clever as Sherlock... Mhhh, puff pastry, gypsy, tea. No, those aren't the_

_words we search for.' She tried really hard to come up with anything when she suddendly_

_remembered that the biggest part in the dictionary is the S one. Scrolling through it she_

_nearly gave up, before finally stopping before one._

 

_ **Sociopath** _

_**A sociopath does not usually care about other people. They think mainly of themselves and** _

_**often blame others for the things that they do. They have a complete disregard for rules.** _

_**They seldom feel guilt or learn from punishments**._

 

„ _Did you found something?“, curiously he read the part on which her eyes focused on._

„ _That is it. We found it!“ Happily he wrote it into his protocol. „But Sherl this doesn't_

_apply for you!“ He stopped writing: „But if I am not... what am I?“ His voice was filled_

_with uncertainty and sadness. „Let's see...“, (y/n) knew that this mattered to him, so she gave_

_him a smile and took his hand, laying it on the dictionary so the word was only half readable:_

„ _You are only half of it, alright?“ „Only half a sociopath?“ Sherlock raised an eyebrow._

„ _Yes! After all you have me!“_

 

_At first he looked down on the table, not knowing what to say. But after a short amount_

_of time he looked up to her and grinned, a warm feeling spreading around in his tummy,_

_the biggest grin he ever gave someone. (y/n) looked up to the clock and started packing her things:_

„ _It's almost over, it will be ringing soon. We will be free for the holidays!“_

„ _Free...Free?“, Sherlock started groaning: „But then I will get bored again!“_

 

_Her laughter filled his ears as her (e/c) eyes glistened with happiness. *_ _**ring** _ _* School is over!_

_The_ _school certificate_ _and test which everyone got before were put into the bags._

_Every pupil stormed outside, being welcomed by their parents and pulled into hugs._

_Between all this chaos the two of them stepped calmly through the crowd._

„ _I need to get better in mathematics.“ „I can help you...“ She looked at him confused._

_Panic went through him as he sees her expression: „O- Only if you want, of course!“_

_His cheeks turned into a light pink. „I would really appreciate that!“ Without realizing her_

_hand found his and she started humming a children's song. „(y/n), promise me not to laugh at this!“_

„ _Why should I laugh at you, Sherl?“ He took a long breath and started to talk really fast:_

„ _Ireallylikeyou.“ Blinking at his words she said nothing at first. Normally he is always secretive._

_But after a few seconds she squeezed his hand and smiled sheepishly at him:_

„ _I really like you too.“ Now he started grinning too, happy to know that there was at least_

_one person he could rely on infinitetly._

 

_Their ways parted early: Sherlock was being picked up before the building, while (y/n)_

_walked home after giving him a big hug. After half of the way however stopped a sleek, black car_

_beside her. Two men stepped out of it, dressed in black suits, ties and sunglasses._

_Walking over to her they looked down. „Are you (y/n) (l/n)?“, one of them asked._

_A bit frightened she took a few steps back: „Mummy said I shouldn't talk to strangers,_

_and you are scary.“ One of them snapped with his fingers and two other men, dressed just_

_like the others took her arms from behind and pulled her into the car. The first two entered_

_too and the one whom she spoke with raised his voice: „If you start screaming Sherlock will_

_be very disappointed.“_

 

_She stopped trying to get away: „What do you mean?“ A malicious grin spread across his face:_

„ _Well, we want to help you to be as clever as him. But when you resist and doesn't want this_

_he will be very upset about it.“ Upset? „Sherlock would be never upset about everything I do!_

_Let me go!“ Just after those words left her mouth he leaned forward and grabbed her_

_by her throat: „Listen here you little bitch: Either you come with us, or this little friend of_

_yours will be silent forever, you heard me?“ Completely scared and shocked she nodded,_

_tears spilling out of her eyes. „Good.“_

 

„Those men in suits, what did they want?“ (y/n) took another sip from her tea, the warm

liquid relaxing her. „This is the thing I didn't understand. They could have taken every little

girl in London, if not even Great Brittain. But they decided to take me.“

 

However to her relief they were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. „Sir? Your presence

is needed.“ Mycroft stood up and walked over to the door, followed by (y/n). „My apologies,

but it seems that I am needed somewhere else.“ Nodding in understanding she kissed his cheek

and grinned at him: „Don't worry, I am a big girl now.“ Heading towards the exit she was halted

one more time. „Oh, and Miss (l/n)? Please keep an eye on him for me. We don't want to worry

our parents.“ „Of course, Mycie“, she told him and left.

 

On her way back to the apartment she noticed John having problems in a supermarket.

Rolling her eyes in amusement she made her way over to him and tried to hide the smile,

which slowly made its way on her face. „Can I help?“ John, who was angered a bit just

glared at the machine: „Just a bit of a nuisance.“ ' _Card not authorised. Please use an alternative-_ '

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bald man staring at them in annoyance. „Let me help-“

„No, that would be very rude. You probably need the money more, I can always ask Sherlock.“

 

(y/n) just rolled her eyes, pulled out a black card, payed for it and gave him half of the groceries

for transportation. „You...“ She looked confused at him: „Me? What is it?“ Shortly he pointed to

the card in her hand before he awkwardly coughed and they left the building together, where

the other customers astonished looked after the two. Confused she whispered to her friend:

„What is it? Do I have something on my face?“

 

Arrived at Baker Street John walked into the flat, followed by the (h/c(just use brunette, blonde etc.)),

who helped carrying. „You took your time.“ Sherlock sat in his armchair, reading a book.

„Yes, I had a row with a chip and PIN machine. Thankfully (y/n) was there, thank you again

by the way.“ „No problem.“ Confused the consulting detective looked up from his book and

stared at his flat mate: „You had a row... with a machine.“ „Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse.“

While the two love birds argued the (e/c) eyed woman started to sort everything in its

proper places, where she noticed the cut in the table. „You could always go yourself, you know.

You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left!“

 

Sherlock looks nonchalant as he turns the page of his book as John finally helps to put

away the groceries: „I forgot the butter...“ Amused she started grinning and wanted to give him

the black card, however Sherlock spoke up first: „Take my card.“ John picks up the wallet

from the table and rummages through it for a suitable payment card: „And what happened

about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?“ „Not interested.“ Using a piece of

paper as bookmark the curly haired man shut the book with a loud snap and looks up to (y/n),

who indicates under his chair without John noticing.

 

Sherlock quickly slams a foot down on a sword which he was attacked with just moments before,

and slicks it back further to get it out of sight. After a moment John found a card, but bends

over to look more closely at the new, long narrow gouge on the table. Carefully he runs

a finger along it. „Holmes...“, he whispered. Straightening himself he shoots his flatmate a glare,

who just shakes his head innocently. Before he left again he flashes (y/n) a quick smile

and disappears out of the building.

 

At the same time the childhood friends started smirking at each other. „Wanna tease him more?“

Jumping up from his seat Sherlock already headed towards the bathroom: „You bet.“

 

A while later, Sherlock sat at the dining table with his hands folded under his mouth as he

reads an E-Mail from someone called 'Sebastian Wilkes', inwardly engrossed and disgusted.

(y/n) is back in her own flat as John walked back up the stairs and carries the last purchases

into the kitchen. „Is that my computer?“, asked the former army doctor his now thinking flatmate.

„Of course.“ What?“ „Mine was in the bedroom“, Sherlock typed on.

 

Even more annoyed John walked towards him: „What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?“

Sherlock doesn't reply. „It is password protected!“ Uninterested the sitting man glanced

to the screen: „It took me less than five minutes. Not exactly Fort Nox.“ John closed the Laptop,

Sherlock had just enough time to pull away his fingers and put them into a praying position

before his chin, absorbed by his thoughts.

 

 **Sebastian Wilkers** ,

the boy who tried to persuade (y/n) to leave him alone, the one who pointed a finger at

him at college and accused him for kidnapping her... The man because of whom he nearly

killed himself, thankfully George was there to help him... or was it Gavin?

 

„Sherlock, are you listening?“ He jumped up without looking at John and headed towards the door,

grabbing his coat and walking outside: „I need to go to the bank.“ John frowns but stands

up and follows him, wondering what just happened in the brilliant mind of his.

 


	8. The Blind Banker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't updated sooner! 
> 
> Also this is just a short chapter because the I am still writing the longer one.
> 
> The next one won't take as long as this, don't worry.
> 
> -TheWritingGirl

_TOWER 42, OLD BROAD STREET_

 

Sherlock lead John through revolving glass doors which lead into the Shad Sanderson Bank

while the former army doctor stared at the impressive foyer as he followed his friend. Reaching the

reception desk the consulting detective adressed one of the receptionists: „Sherlock Holmes.“

 

On their way to the elevator the two met (y/n), who was just as surprised

as them when she walked towards the exit: „A case?“ Grabbing her arm Sherlock dragged her

with them: „Obviously, welcome aboard.“

 

A little later the trio had been shown into Sebastian Wilkes’ office as

he walked in and grinned at Sherlock, not noticing the female. „Sherlock Holmes!“

„Sebastian“, clasping Sherlock’s hand in both of his own Sebastian looked over at John.

„This is my... friend, John Watson.“ „Friend?“ „Colleague“, John threw in. Nodding in response and looking

him up Sebastian nodded and grinned at Sherlock: „How long has it been? Eight years?“

 

Ignoring the question Sherlock began to speak again: „So, you’re doing well.

You’ve been abroad a lot, flying all the way round the world twice in a month?“

„Right. You're doing that thing.“ Sebastian turned to John, smiling at him:

„We were at Uni together, put the wind up everybody. We hated him.“

Sherlock turned his head away and glanced down, his face momentarily filling with pain.

 

Even though (y/n) wanted to comfort him, she was slightly annoyed. She had an appointment with Mycroft,

but since her former best friend literally dragged her into this she sent him a SMS.

 

_Sorry Mycroft, Sherlock kidnapped me and he apparently wants me here for god knows._

_-(y/n)_

 

„Oh Sherlock, who may this marvelous lady be?“, the bank employee took one of her hands and

gently kissed the top of it: „Sebastian Wilkers, at your service.“ „(y/n) (l/n), long time no see.“

 

Shocked by her confession Sebastian retreated and looked at Sherlock , who happened to watch London from

above before returning to gaze at the female before him.

„I thought I would never see you again!“

 

Grinning unpleasantly at him (y/n) sat down on a chair: „There is the problem: You are thinking.“

John let out a snort while Sherlock grinned at her behavior. Meanwhile Sebastians face turned into one of

irritation as he sat down at his desk, the other two sitting side by side opposite him, (y/n) between the two.

 

After telling them the details about the break-in Sebastian led them into a room, where someone sprayed

with yellow at the wall and on a portrait.

 

Because the (h/c) haired woman wasn't remotely interested in watching Sherlock striding around to look out for clues,

she resumed texting Mycroft, who was also irritated by his little brothers behaviour.

 

_Apologizes about him. He gets rather... focused on cases, and likes it, when his 'friends' accompany him._

_\- Mycroft_

 

_I already figured out, don't worry about me. If he gets me into trouble, I will tell you. ;)_

_\- (y/n)_

 

_If he does, I will tell our dear mother that he wants to visit her soon._

_\- Mycroft_

 

Smiling slightly about the text she didn't realized that Sherlock and John were already

on their way towards the elevators. She rolled her eyes and started following them, but was held

back by a hand on her wrist, it was Sebastian: „Can I invite you for a coffee?~“

However as she opened her mouth she was interrupted by a deep voice behind her,

which belonged to Sherlock who was already guiding her towards the exit.

„She can't because she already comes with us. Goodbye, Sebastian.“

 

Out of the building (y/n) grinned amused at the detective, who just ignored her in annoyance.

„John and me will investigate further. (y/n), you can do as you like, your assistance is no longer needed.“

Confused she furrowed her eyebrows, until she sighed and nodded in response:

„I will go to Mycroft then, after all I wanted to visit him before you took me with you for god knows. Bye John!“

She hugged him before smiling at the taller male: „Sherlock“, and disappeared in the crowd.

 

As John and Sherlock sat down in the cab the doctor turned towards

his 'colleague' and gave him a bewildered look.

„Why did you take her with us in there when you don't need her after all?“

„Isn't it obvious?“, Sherlock retorted, glancing at the blond.

Pausing a second to calm down again John sighed and shook his head: „No, it is not.“

Inhaling lightly Sherlock coughed before his gaze returned to the window.

„Well, you wanted me to proof that I don't have any mutual feelings towards her,

so I prove it. I took her with us and as you could see: There is nothing and never will be.“

Mumbling curses about the 'ignorant' Holmes under his breath and about being an complete bloke he also turned

away, watching the shops and people rushing by.

 

Meanwhile (y/n) was on her phone, talking.

„I see, well done. Later, penguin.“

She ended the call, a smirk plastered on her face.

„Mycroft will be happy to hear about it.“

 


	9. The Truth about her Past

_Far away from any civilisation, in a forest in the middle of Wales stood a research laboratory._

_Secret and mostly hidden underground were five children,_

_cooped into a room, as big as a swimming pool. The walls were white and bleak,_

_only a few unused toys decorated it. Silence hung in the air, too big was the fear of the little ones._

_  
„I want to go home to my mommy“, started the first one to cry after a while._

_A boy, brunette and slender, sat huddled in a corner,_

_a stuffed toy, which was laying on the Ground at the beginning, captive in his hand._

_  
„We all want to go back“, told him a second one. Hair cut short like in the army,_

_his stare would have been dominant, weren't there small tears forming in the corners of them._

 

_Awoken from the voices muttered an equally frightening thin boy:_

„ _I am tired“, before he fell asleep again._

 

„ _Strange fellow.“_

 

„ _Ey, does someone want to play? As long as we are imprisoned here we can't do anything, might as well do something!“_

_The fourth boy, dark skin color with a big grin on his face stood in the middle of the room,_

_two airplanes in his hands._

 

_At last (y/n) also stood up from her position at the wall while stretching herself, in which her eyes_

_scanned over every child: „He is right. We should to the best with our situation._

_What are your names?“_

 

„ _G-George“, began the first._

 

_The second saluted her: „Samuel. My father is a soldier!“_

 

_The boy on the ground opened an eye and answered: „Adrian.“_

 

„ _Steven, or Steve! And who are you?“ Curious he stepped towards her, holding out one_

_of the toys for her to play._

 

„ _(y/n), nice to meet you all!“_

 

….

 

„Wait a moment. Those names, I heard of them.“

 

(y/n) nodded, a faint smile played on her lips as she caressed the tea cup.

 

„Indeed. They were the best friends, someone could wish for, Mycroft.“

 

….

 

After a few hours in which they got to know each other, the door was opened.

A man, or more precisely someone related to the army entered the room and

looked at the Children with a serious expression.

 

„ _So you are the chosen five? Pathetic, but instructions are instructions. Men,_

_get them and bring them in the laboratory 11-B.“_

 

_He stepped aside, another five men entered the room. Everyone of them grabbed a child and_

_walked with it along the aisle._

 

„ _Let me go!“, Steve shouted from further back._

 

_Without thinking (y/n) bit the man's hand, who let her go to caress_

_his wound. This opportunity she used to run away and to get help for her new friends. Other_

_Security guards followed her through the corridors until, at long last, she ended in a dead end._

 

„ _Come here little one, we don't want to hurt you.“_

_The first of them was in a crouched position, slowly walking_

_towards her. (y/n) pressed herself against the wall behind her._

 

„ _Come here -“, he couldn't finish his sentence out of pain, since she boxed him in_

_his private parts._

 

_The next one stormed up to her and grabbed her by the hips. What he had not planned was_

_(y/n) head hitting unceremoniously against his nose. You could only hear a crack before blood poured out of it. He too let her go. Only the third could successfully_

_capture her and bring back to the lab, where the four_

_other children laid unconscious on metallic operating tables._

 

„ _You've put up a pretty good fight young lady, too bad that it was meaningless._

_Sleep well.~“_

 

_Slowly her eyes shut, sleep overwhelmed her. No, however, before she heard a man yelling around_

_how 'effeminate' the soldier were and how 'a girl_

_could have escaped that easily'._

 

….

 

_The next morning she woke up with the others, this time, however, not in the_

_white cell, but in a giant child's room: five beds and tons_

_of toys, a ball pit and climbing frame._

 

„ _(y/n) is awake, guys! Everything alright?“, Steve came running, followed by Samuel and George._

 

_She nodded before she looked at her surroundings. Shocked, she stood up, her_

_Eyes widened as she gazed around. „Where are we?“_

 

„ _Dunno. We woke up here, just like you. But hey (y/n), why_

_can you fight so well? Can you teach me that too?“_

_Steven punched his hands through the air, waving around with his leg,_

_what should probably be a Kick._

 

„ _My best friend Sherlock showed me how to do it. He said it is, it is self-defense._

_'You should be able to protect yourself when I am not around'.“_

 

_Astonished about the story Samuels eyes sparkled . Again he saluted and looked_

_straight ahead._

„ _(y/n), would you train me? I want to impress my dad when we_

_get out of here!“_

 

_When she wanted to answer the door had been opened, a young woman entered. She was_

_wearing a Doctor coat and a black horn-rimmed glasses, a updo prevented her blonde_

_hair to fall into her face._

 

„ _So you are the five for the special unit 'Penta Squad'? Children?_

_The government is daft. Howsoever, since you can't call each other on missions with_

_your real name I will tell you your alias._

_Do you know what it is?“_

 

_Samuel stepped forward and looked at her determined: „An alias is used to_

_to keep the person's name a secret, so that friends and family are safe .“_

 

_The woman gave him a smile and a nod and looked back to the group._

„ _Your aliases are as follows:_

 

_Steven McDonald - Omega_

_(y/n) (l/n) – Theta_

_Samuel Star – Sigma_

_Adrian Smith - Delta_

_George Tailor – Kappa_

 

_Remember them. If you don't use them somewhere else except here, you parents could die.“_

 

_Intimidated they looked at her._

 

„ _My name is Misses Corey, if you have any questions: contact me. In addition, the_

_food is ready, if you would follow me, please.“_

 

….

 

„We were trained to kill. They experimented with our bodies and kept

it a secret. They injected us this disgusting medications, drugs and poisons to see

how they affect us.“

 

(y/n) reached with considerably more pressure around the handle of the cup,

pain and hatred came upon her otherwise friendly face.

 

„Our bodies were practically raped, everyday training from 5 a.m. to 2 p.m.,

4 hours learning to proper knowledge of any kind. Who did not make got

no food or had to exercise until late. The meals consisted of small portions,

which only served to keep us fit, but tasted like rubbish.

 

In addition, we were pumped full of stimulants, drugs and other things

which should increase our maximum potential. Did you know that I am now immune to

most poisons because of those... procedures?“

 

Mycrofts eyes widened shock, before shaking his head as his eyes

turned more serious. Such a thing is not even with modern medicinal standards possible.

 

„As amusing as this story is- “

 

A humorless grin spread across her face as she rolled up her sleeve

and showed the many points on her arm to him.

 

„Do you see that, Mycroft? Twenty years did they do this to me. You can

inject me poisons of nearly every animal: I will not even bat an eyebrow.“

 

Mycroft closed his eyes. He was angry. Not because of (y/n), but because of himself.

He was practically the head of the British government, and yet he was not

informed of such an important thing. He would later lead a few conversations.

 

„Why wasn't I informed?“

 

„It was handled as Security classification I-A-1, which means five times higher than

CTS or Cosmic Top Secret. Each outsiders, who would only experience a hint of it would

without questioning, be tortured and then mercilessly killed under immense pain.

Even now I can only tell five people, you being one of them. But as I initially warned you already:

If you are only mentioning it, I can shoot you without warning.

This was our agreement for the information of my absence.“

 

He only nodded, his gaze returned to (y/n).

 

„Are there any information in this regard? Why you have been trained?“

 

„We were called the 'elite of the elite'. Not even the best men and /

or women of the best special forces in the world could even match our abilities.

Delta Force? We reached them when we were 20. GSG9? 25, maybe

even a bit earlier, hadn't we been heavily injured because of a mission.

Now, do you know why that was kept secret? Not only because we were children who

fell victim to the governments dark plans, but also so that we could finish off

the most gruesome scum which haunts the world.

 

You surely ask yourself now: What kind of missions? Different ones. We were specialized

for all kind of duties. Terrorism, murder, corruption, information retrieval,

all in all: everything. However, each of us had his specialties:

 

Samuel / Sigma: Terrorism and operations in rough terrain

 

Adrian / Delta: Supply and poisons

 

George / Kappa: Assassination and undercover investigation

 

Steven / Sigma: Operations in buildings and incitement of revolts etc.

 

(y/n) / Theta: Technology and coordination, as well as leadership of the 'Penta Squad'.“

 

The hum of a cell phone interrupted her narrative. She quickly fished the device

from her pocket and read the message.

 

„I am sorry, Mycroft, but I have to go now.“

 

„Very well. I only have a last question. You spoke all the time in

past tense: What happened?“

 

(y/n) She had risen from her seat, paused and looked at

Mycroft again: he could clearly see the hatred in her eyes.

 

„Betrayal.“

 

When she closed the door behind herself, Mycroft was already lost in thought.

If this 'Penta Squad' really existed, why she could now, after all the years,

tell them?

 

But much more preoccupied him what Sherlock would think about the whole truth, after all

he lost the most important person in his life because of it.

 

....

 

Sighing to herself the young female crossed out Mycrofts name on her paper.

"Only two left. I wonder who the other two will be."

Pulling out her mobile and putting in the headphones she started her playlist.

"' _Don't mess with me_ '? How ironic."

 

 

 


	10. Telling him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really update more often...

Back at 221C Baker Street (y/n) sat down on her couch, finally relaxing after the stressing day.

Closing her eyes she layed down and made herself comfortable,

however the quietness was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

 

„Come inside, it's open.“

 

Opening the door Sherlock stepped into the apartment, his coat and scarf still secured

around him. A quick look over the sourroundings the consulting detective decided to

sit down on the armchair across from the tired woman, who wasn't moving an inch.

 

„What do you want Sherlock?“, she asks him half asleep.

 

He starts looking her over: „A simple talk.“

 

„Can't we do that tomorrow? Then you can tell me about your case too.“

 

After a short while of thinking it over he nodded, bid her farewell and closed the door.

Sighing in experation (y/n) closed her eyes, blackness slowly sourrounding her.

 

~~~~~

 

The next day (y/n) woke up with a sore throat. Standing up she noticed the person beside her.

A sleepy smile crossed her face while she streched herself, the clothes from the day

before still clinging to her body.

 

„Good morning, Sherlock. Slept well?“

 

With an small wave of his hand he dismissed the question.

He sat on the armchair, hands clasping together under his chin.

 

„Mycroft told me I should speak to you.“

 

She walked into the kitchen, preparing some morning coffee.

 

„You are listening to him? Since when?“

 

Cracking a sly smile the consulting detective picks up a photo lying around.

On it are five persons, laughing.

 

„John will be smart before this would happen“, he replied.

„I wanted to ask why you left. I am not mad.

I just want to know why, so I can finally delete it out of my mind palace.“

 

Pouring the hot liquid into two mugs she returned to the table, where sugar cubes

already decorated the surface.

 

„Beforehand I need to tell you that if you just mention it, I am allowed to murder you...“

 

A short nod informed her of his answer.

And so she tells him everything, just like she did with Mycroft. However unlike his brother

Sherlock showed no emotion. Through the whole time (y/n) told him about her

past he just sat there, staring straight at her. The only thing to know he was still alive

was the blinking of his eyes.

 

Of course it made her slightly sad to know that he probably doesn't care about her,

but to let him know why she couldn't be there for him finally lifted some weight

off her heart.

 

„....and this is how I ended back here.“

 

„Nonsense. Something as big as this wouldn't go unnoticed.“

 

Are all the Holmes as thick as this?

 

„You don't need to believe me, Sherlock. I can only tell you what happened,

the rest is up to you.“

 

„Why now?“

 

This caught her off guard.

 

„What do you mean?“

 

Sherlock closed his eyes, going over the information he possesed

after their conversation.

 

„Why did you come back? Why?“

 

„Because I promised, didn't I? To stay by your side.“

 

Nonchalantly revealing his ever changing eyes a look of anger, but

mostly hurt swirls around those orbs.

 

„Thirty years. You were gone for thirty years, I hardly think you

kept this promise, (y/n).“

 

Looking down into her mug guilt overcomes her once more.

 

„I've waited, you know. Every day after school I looked outside and hoped

you would stand there, being fine... being alive.“

 

„Sherlock, I-“

 

Not giving her time to say something he continued.

 

„My parents looked at me with pity, I hated it.

Ten years later I gave up. Not only my hope that you were alive,

but also all of my other emotions.

Mycroft was right: Sentiment is for stupid people.“

 

Abruptly standing up (y/n) glared at the male before her.

 

„That is not true! Sentiment is what kept us so close in childhood! Sentiment brought

me back to you!“

 

„That is why I hate sentiment! Why couldn't you stay dead,

my life was perfect before you got back!-“

 

In the process of talking Sherlock arose from his seat, getting louder and louder

with his voice until he saw (y/n) crying. He felt his heart clench.

Carefully he approached her as he reached out his hand towards her figure.

 

„Get out.“

 

„(y/n)-“

  
  
„GET OUT!“

 

Seconds later he pulled back his limb, looking down onto the ground.

 

„Very well.“

 

Sherlock lost no time and exited the apartment, leaving the broken female

tearfully standing in the middle of her living room.

 

~~

 

The consulting detective layed like he did often on the couch, eyes closed.

 

The images of the (h/c) haired woman crying because of him wouldn't get

ouf of his head. He often made those around him mad, but why is it with her different.

He considered that sentiment would be part of his problem.

 

_It's always about feelings._

 

Sherlock groaned, making John looking at him.

 

„What is it?“

 

„Sentiment.“

 

The doctor raised an eyebrow at his collegue.

 

„Sentiment?“

 

„I may have hurt (y/n)s feelings. I left her crying.“

 

John sighed in annoyance and slight anger as he took the detectives coat and threw it

rather aggressively at the owner.

 

„You will apologize. I don't care if she will accept it or not, but she is good for you, Sherlock.

Take her out for some food, treat her nicely and at least try to regret your doing.

It is only 4 p.m. so you have enough time, and I swear to god if you do not make it

up to her-“

 

„Yes, yes I understand, John. I will be back around 9.“

 

Putting on his coat and scarf Sherlock took a brief breath and cascaded down the stairs,

wanting to ask her out for dinner.

 

Deep in his mind he hoped that he can still try to be on good terms.

 

Deep in his heart he knew he couldn't loose her again.

 


	11. Molly and her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am currently a bit busy writing for a friend of mine. 
> 
> Sorry if it doesn't update often, but I promise it will at least once a month!
> 
> Stay strong!
> 
> -TheWritingGirl

Only shortly after Sherlock left (y/n) decided, that she should clear her head.

First of all the thing with Mycroft. She doesn't want to be one of his 'pets', hell she

doesn't even know how she wants to spend her free time. Of course she helps out

when someone asks, but she needs something more... dependable – like working in a

book store! Mycroft mostly gives her minor work, delivering a package or watching someone.

 

So as she walks down the street she didn't expect to see a known face.

 

„Oh, Molly! Long time no see.“

 

The unexpected hello startled Molly slightly, but after she realised who called her

she smiles slightly.

 

„(y/n), it's nice to see you.“

 

Both share a hug as (y/n) looked her up and down.

 

When she arrived in London after all she has gone through, Molly was the first person

she met. At first the nice brunette was a bit hesitant and shy, even bashful. But after

they got to know each other through some coffee and cake they became good friends,

which (y/n) was grateful for.

 

„So Molly, still want to go to the circus?“

 

„Uhm... about that...“

 

She bites her lip.

 

„My boss asked me, if I could work a bit longer. I'm sorry.“

 

Her friend shakes her head and smiles at the face she is making.

She already guessed that something like this would happen,

Molly is – after all – too good for this world.

 

„Don't worry too much about it, I will go and try to take some pictures.“

 

A sigh of relief left Mollys mouth, her gaze again fixing on (y/n),

her cheeks turning a slight pink because of her happiness.

 

„That would be too much ask for. But I appreciate it. Oh, do you want to come

with me? I only have three hours left of work and we can- could maybe watch a movie

after I am finished.“

 

A sudden growl from her stomach however interrupts the shy female and turns her face

even redder. With a cough she continues.

  
„Maybe we can grab something to eat first in the cantina? I ran around London all day-“

 

(y/n) laughs at her friend and takes her hand, leading her towards a cab.

 

„I would love to come with you. I too need to take my mind of things. But first we

will take care of your stomach before you start scaring other people.“

 

~~

 

When Molly and (y/n) arrived at the morgue, Molly gave her boss the papers she collected

before happily turning towards (y/n), who looked annoyed at her phone.

 

„Something the matter?“

 

Surprised by her friends swiftness she sighs and sent a text, annoyingly staring at the device.

 

„Mycroft is a prick. I know he wants to help me by giving me something to do, but

'sorting papers' is not what I want to do all day long.“

 

This sparks Mollys interest. Of course she knew normal things about (y/n), like her

favorite colour or what animal she likes the most, what music she listens to and even

what underwear she wears – even if it was an accident – but having connections like

this is something Molly never knew of.

 

„Mycroft Holmes? Sherlocks brother?“

 

„Mhhhm. Anyway, want to go to the cafeteria, or not?“

 

~~

 

On their way the two talked about the last week, since the last meeting they had was

a bit longer ago.

 

„ … and this is how I met Jim, he is so sweet! He waits for us so we can eat

together, you will surely like him (n/n).“

 

„I'm sure I will. As long as he keeps you happy I am happy with him, too.“

 

As soon as both of them entered the canteen a smiling man already waited for them

and embraced Molly in a hug.

 

„Hey darling, how was your day?“

 

She smiled up at him and turned towards (y/n), who eyed the man suspiciously.

 

„This is (y/n), a good friend of mine. (y/n), Jim works in the IT dept.“

 

„Nice to meet you, Jim.“

 

„I can only say it back. Everyone who makes Molly happy is a friend.“

 

And so they made their way over to the food.

 

While Molly and Jim talked, walked (y/n) behind them, watching them interacting.

Jim. A file she opened many times, the information imprinted into her mind,

like someone carved it into her brain.

What is he doing here with Molly? Why? Why is he here?

 

„ … I will wait over there, goodbye Molly, (y/n).“

 

Pulled out of her thoughts she gave him a fake smile, which he returned with

a genuine one and left them. Looking at the food Molly jumped slightly when

a familiar baritone voice startled her.

 

„I’d stick with the pasta. Don’t wanna be doing roast pork – not if you’re slicing up cadavers.“

 

Unnoticed by either one his gaze goes to (y/n). She looked at the food,

her jaw clenched in anger. Both arms folded over her chest, not wanting to look

at the one who insulted her. But even if she was angry at him, he couldn't help

but smile slightly at the woman.

 

„I just remembered I need to go somewhere. Good look with _him_.“

 

(y/n) practically spat the last word in rage.

Molly, who was oblivious to the tension nodded and smiled slightly at Sherlock,

who watched the (h/c) haired leave with minor hurt.

 

~~

 

Spotting Jim at a table in the far corner of the room (y/n) made her way over,

where she was greeted by a smirk.

 

„Hello, darling.~“

 

She sits down opposite from him, an annoyed look on her face.

 

„I told you to stop calling me that.“

 

A sigh escaped his lips, however a grin stayed.

Jim leaned toward her and tilted his lightly.

 

„And I thought we were best buddies.~“

 

(y/n) only laughed bitterly and pulls out her phone to check for new messages.

 

One new message from Mycroft.

 

_'I need to talk to you. Personally._

_-MH'_

 

„The big brother? A nice little comrade you have there.“

 

Looking at the clock at the wall Jim stood up, taking her hand and kissing its backside.

 

„My break is sadly over. See you soon, mon chéri.~“

 

(y/n) glanced at the retreating man, a mischievous smile crossed her lips.

 

„Oh don't worry, we will talk sooner than you think.“

 


	12. Confusing Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a lazy piece of crap... Sorry. ._.

'What is it now, Mycroft? Another escorting mission?

-(y/n)'

 

'The Tong made another move. Would you be so kind and help my stupid brother?

-MH'

 

'Does this involve talking with this ass, or can I just drop off some hints?

-(y/n)'

 

'Do as you please, but don't be obvious. He always loved solving puzzles.

-MH'

 

(y/n) sighed loudly in annoyance just as Molly walked towards her with a plate, the food

balancing on top. However, she is followed by none other than Sherlock.

 

"Uhm... Muff, do you want to go to the cinema on Saturday

and watch this new horror movie with me?"

 

Muff is the nickname Molly gave (y/n), short for Muffin. Somehow her attitude

and character reminded the pathologist of her dead cat. 

  
"I need to see if Mycroft has anything for me.

You know how much of a diva he can be",

the (h/c) woman answered smiling:

"But if nothing comes up, of course!"

 

Interrupting their conversation with a cough, Sherlocks

gaze found (y/n)s, who glared at him.

 

"(Y/n), could I... discuss something with you in private?"

 

"What, so you can tell me more about 'How I shouldn't have come back'? No thank you!"

 

She abrubtly stood up and tried to walk out of the building,

however her wrist was caught by a cold hand,

long fingers softly held her in place:

"Please."

 

(y/n) looked over her shoulder and sighed, 

nodding rather reluctant.

 

"What is it?"

  
"Not here",

Sherlock stated lowly.

 

The dark curled male tugged her with him,

leading her into an alleyway.

  
"(y/n)..."

 

She looked up to him, their eyes meeting again.

 

"Sherlock."

 

Silently he studied her, his gaze never faltering.

 

"Uh, Sherlo-"

 

Suddendly she got interrupted by him punshing the brick wall

besides her with a loud growl:

"I do not understand!"

 

Sherlock angrily ruffled his hair, a shout wanted

to escape his lips. However, it got repressed by himself.

 

"Why what? Sherlock if you do not talk I am going.

I don't have time for this, Mycroft-"

 

Quickly taking her wrists with one hand he pinned her

against the bricks, staring agitated into her (e/c) eyes

while forcefully grabbing her chin with with the other.

He inched his face closer to hers, 

 never breaking eye-contact, his voice dangerously low.

 

"You can't even comprehend the chaos you caused

in my mind palace. I tried to ignore you, to avoid you and

to make you hate me... But this feeling, this... annoying 

nagging in the back of my mind is something

which gets stronger by knowing you help my brother.

My whole body screams at me to just take you

with me and mark you as mine forever.

I do not know how to handle it, and as you may

know I do not like 'not knowing'."

 

Sherlock took a deep breath, his voice wavering slightly:

"So either you tell me what I should do or I will do it myself...

I can't just stand around and wait, seeing you helping

my brother with his tasks and endangering youself.

I need your answer... Now."

 

Her skin crawled when she looked into his eyes. 

She just witnessed a completely new side to

Sherlock, the side he tried to hide.

 

They held so much suffering, pain, emotions...

 

Uncertainity.

 

A helpless child left alone with no one to play with,

knowing that he is different.

 

And now he faced a completely new world, full of 

unpredictable factors, confusion and chaos,

but most of it all - fear.

 

A clear liquid ran down his cheekbones, his hands

loosened their grip on her body as he slowly leaned away:

"I just do not know. My brother was right all along,

...I am still-"

 

Soft lips met his as (y/n) pulled him towards her by his collar,

her thumbs wiped away his tears carefully.

Breaking away from one another his confused gaze landed on

her soft one.

 

"Sherl, I know no one more intelligent than you. Your brother

may know more, but you are the one who thinks with

his heart when an important decision is needed.

You rescued me once in first grade when a boar attacked

me, not caring if you yourself could get hurt."

  
"This was one time, and my parents-"

  
(y/n) smiled lightly at him, putting a finger on his lips:

"Hush, let me tell you something.

You and your brother are the perfect example of

the difference between 'knowledge' and 'intelligence'.

'Knowledge' is forming a

thought on the base of rational facts.

'Intelligence' however, includes knowing that one can't live

without listening to his hearts wishes. 

You are the one of the two of you who does it

without even noticing.

And when your heart tells you to do something,

who am I to say no?"

 

Sherlocks eyes searched hers as confirmation of the 

words she just spoke, and found no doubt.

Taking her face between his slender hands again he

slowly leaned in again and put his lips on hers in a 

gentle manner, angling their heads slightly while

his thumb rubbed small circles across her cheeks.

 

(y/n)s hands found their way to the nape of his neck,

where she placed her hands. 

Both closed their eyes, embracing the moment in

complete and utter affection towards one another.

 

Gently the consulting detective broke away from the kiss,

still caressing her face, searching her eyes once more:

"I am sorry... but I can't."

 

As quick as he said this Sherlock made his way

out of the alley, pulling up his collar.

 

* * *

 

Standing alone in a lone alleyway was a young woman,

tears ran down her face.

 

A man in a Westwood suit approached her, stopping

a few feet behind her, while a wicked grin played on his lips.

 

"I am impressed, truly. Kissing the world famous

consulting detective is indeed worth a praising.

Did everything go as planned?~"

 

The (h/c) haired woman nodded, her head turning slightly

towards him as a single drop fell from her face towards the ground.

 

"Time for the next step then I would say, my dear."

 

" ...Just don't kill him."

 


	13. The Game Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is a lazy piece of shit*  
> *also loves to procrastinate*  
> *:)*

Night-time, March the 27th of 2010.

  
  


Blood - splattered across every surface in the room. The concrete walls

drenched in red and sprayed with tags or different symbols and figures,

fingerprints decorated the furniture as well as the ground.

Broken pieces of glass bottles and rubbish layed scattered

and gave the abandoned apartment building an unwelcomed flair.

Not that anyone would care about the state of this filthy building.

  
  


Because everyone who would layed dead on the floor with either

ripped out body parts, mashed and chopped, or simply just shot.

  
  


"My oh my, what a mess I made...~"

  
  


A sick smile plastered across the persons face, who is standing in the middle of all this,

licking the blood which landed on their hand.

  
  


* * *

  
  


  
  


(y/n) walks along the sideway, yawning tiredly as she watched the people go by,

a half empty coffee in her hand.

  
  


"I shouldn't stay up until morning... Five hours of sleep isn't enough."

  
  


As she continued her journey home, a cab halted beside her with John in the back.

  
  


"Hurry up and get in, there was an explosion at Baker Street!"

  
  


Without hesitating the woman jumps in, the coffee being thrown away into a nearby trashcan.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Fighting their way through the crowds of gawking onlookers and policemen the two of them finally

arrived at their apartment flat, where Sherlock sat calmly on his armchair while

absentmindly plucking his violin, Mycroft across from him.

  
  


„Saw it on the telly. Are you alright?“, asks John his flatmate.

  
  


„Mh? Yeah, fine. Gas leak, apparently.“

  
  


As the three men bickered around, Mycroft being the one offering Sherlock a case

they totally forgot the fourth person in the room, who stood at the

sideline watching them interact with each other.

  
  


However, just as John asked if the information on a USB-stick which was stolen

is top-secret, (y/n) decided it was her cue to leave.

  
  


No point in being there if she isn't needed, right? Sherlock is fine and still a

pretentious ass, playing with her feelings.

  
  


„I'll be going, still a lot to do.“

  
  


Everyones eyes go towards her, Mycroft began to speak.

  
„I do hope you remember to fullfill the task I gave you, my dear.“

  
  


„Oh, I already delivered the papers. Here is the answer they gave me.“

  
  


She handed him an beige letter with the royal wax seal, neatly folded and old looking.

  
  


„Thank you, I do appreciate your work. Gentleman“, the older Holmes brother smiles

at Sherlock and John: „I need to go as well. Sherlock, think it over.“

  
  


Wishing John goodbye he offers his arm for (y/n) to take, who gladly accepted the offer.

As they walk outside she glanced a last time towards her former best friend and saw

him staring at her with a stoic expression.

  
  


* * *

 

Outside the building awaited a car the appereance of Mycroft.

  
„(y/n), I have a question before I go again.“

  
  


„Of course, what is it?“

  
  


„It is not my business...“, he started:

„But did you and Sherlock had some kind of disagreement?

I do not know much about friendship and such trivial things, but he is my brother after all.“

  
  


(y/n)s eyes casted downwards, a sigh escaped her lips.

  
  


„I still don't fully understand myself what happened, but...“

  
  


She smiled sadly at the thought of Sherlock years ago, finally looking up.

  
  


„...I do hope that maybe one day, I can show him how much he really means to me.“

  
  


A sympathetic smile crossed Mycrofts normally neutral face as he

looked up towards Sherlocks flat, seeing his brother glaring at him.

  
  


„He may be slow, but I am sure one day he will realize that you are good for him.

Just keep trying, just like back then.“

  
  


„I will... thank you.“

  
  


The male nodded at her and disappeared in the car, which drove away shortly after.

  
  


* * *

 

The Hickman Gallery.

The (h/c) haired woman walked around, admiring the artworks with interest.

  
  


Just as she reached the main attraction – a lost Vermeer painting – a woman

walked up beside her, smiling at it with pride.

  
„It is quite beautiful, isn't it? After many years finally back for everyones eyes to see.“

  
  


(y/n) glanced at her shortly before her gaze returned

to the painting with disdain on her face.

  
  


„You shouldn't praise such a bad fake, Miss Wenceslas.

Even if you can fool the average person out there, sooner or later

someone will catch up on it and send you to prison.“

  
  


The older lady smiled conceited, turning towards (y/n) and stepping

closer to her so that they are merely inches apart.

  
  


„A small woman like you shouldn't stick their nose into

other peoples business... or you could vanish from earths surface, Miss...?“

  
  


„(l/n). (y/n) (l/n).“

  
  


„Very well Miss (l/n), hold your tongue back.“

  
  


* * *

 

10:50 p.m.

  
  


Drinking a steaming hot black tea while reading her favourite book (y/n) calmly

layed on her couch, completely consuming her and whisking her away into

a world far, far away from her reality.

  
  


Just as she wanted to turn the page a hand clasped over her mouth while

a body pressed her onto the piece of furniture, making her immovable.

  
  


There is only one person on earth who would do something like this.

  
  


„Golem“, came her muffled response to his actions.

 


	14. Moriarty Appears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am getting more productive...  
> What....
> 
> Also, after this whole thing ended (Yes, I'll finish this) I've got an idea for a new Sherlock x Reader Story.
> 
> Be patient *flails around with arms because why not* D:

„Miss (l/n)."

 

Golem got off of her with a quick movement and

now stood right beside the couch, glancing down at her.

 

„Oscar, it is nice to see you again. The last time

we talked was 15 years ago, wasn't it?"

 

„Indeed. I was sent to gather you for the final step."

 

As she put the book on the table besides the couch (y/n) stood

up and slipped into her shoes, Golem closely watching her.

 

„Well then... Let's go."

 

* * *

 

She could hear Sherlock and Moriarty talking behind the door with

poor John having bombs strapped onto his chest.

 

„I am a specialist, you see... like you."

 

Footsteps getting closer, with Golem sitting in a chair closely behind her

she listens.

 

„Consulting criminal, brilliant."

 

„Isn't it? But sadly, now you're in my way."

 

„Thank you."

 

„Didn't mean it as a compliment."

 

„Yes, you did."

 

„Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock. I still have

a little surprise for you, you know? A perfect surprise for

a perfect ending. Darlin', please join us."

 

Her cue. The cue she waited for since the game began.

She opened the door with a powerless and guilty face.

 

„(y/n)..."

 

Sherlocks gaze averted from John to her, not seeing any bombs

on her, thankfully.

 

„I have loved the little game of ours, but my little dear

also played a role in this funny chase. Don't you want to tell them?"

 

„I..."

 

She took a deep breath and her (e/c) eyes met Sherlocks.

 

„He has Steven at fingerpoint. I can't just let the last one of my

friends die, I'm sorry. I didn't wanted to kidnap those people..."

 

Some tears welled in her eyes, but were wiped away by Jim who had a

devilish grin on his face.

 

„Don't ruin that pretty face of yours with some silly tears, darling.

I was just better than you... well,

than everyone but who would have thought different, right?"

 

Sherlock glared at the consulting criminal and

looks over at John.

 

„You all right?"

 

Still keeping quiet John glares at Moriarty, who just grins.

 

„You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead."

 

Sherlock offered the missile plans on the stick, which he found earlier that day,

just to get them tossed into the pool.

 

„Boring, I could've got them anywhere."

 

Seeing his opportunity John raced forward and wrapped one arm around

Jims neck, while the other goes around his chest. A slight chuckle escaped

the now trapped mans lips.

 

„Isn't he sweet? People do get so sentimental about their pets.

They're so touchingly loyal. But, oops!"

 

All the while sniper only focused John, now a new one aimed

at Sherlock, which makes the former army doctor

loosen his grip and stepping away.

 

„D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

 

With a still raised gun the curly haired man gives a bored answer.

 

„Let me guess: I get killed."

 

„Of couse you will, I don't wanna rush it, though."

 

Moriarty stepped closer to Sherlock, looking him straight in the eyes with an evil glint.

 

„I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you..."

 

His gaze wandered over to the onlooking female, who stood beside John

with an arm draped over his shoulder to comfort him.

 

„...And guess how it will start, Sherlock.

With the person whoms heart you rip into pieces as you like."

 

Closely leaning into the consulting detectives ear Jim put on

a bittersweet but also menacing voice.

 

„She is an exellent kisser, you know? I wonder how good she is elsewhere."

 

Sherlocks glare hardened as a barely audible growl escaped him,

making the others grin widen.

 

„Just kidding. It was nice to have had a proper chat.

Darling, I don't need you anymore. And because I have such

a good mood today I will let your friend live as long as you

leave me alone. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

 

Right after he left John was being freed from the bombs by Sherlock,

leaving (y/n) to glare at the floor in self-hatred.

Walking up to her John hugged her tightly,

trying to comfort her in some way.

 

„I do not know the full story behind what happened,

but I forgive you. You've gone through worse than me,

and even I was terrified! I fought in a war and it wasn't

as shocking as getting nearly blown up by a bloody bomb while

almost loosing my two best friends!"

 

Sniffling into his shoulder she let out a light laugh.

 

„Thank you John."

 

„(y/n)..."

 

She looks up and sees Sherlock holding out a hand for her.

 

„What..."

 

„I'm sorry."

 

As soon as the (h/c) haired woman took his hand he pulled

her into him, nearly squishing her in the process.

 

„No, I am sorry,  Sherlock. I should have told you about

him and warned you... will you forgive me?"

 

„Of course."

 

Suddendly a door opened and Jim returned.

 

„Sorry, I am sooo changeable! You simply can't be allowed

to continue."

 

With his gun aimed at the bombs before Moriartys feet

Sherlock was about to pull the trigger.

However, a phone ringing broke the tension.

Sighing Jim closed his eyes, pointing at his pocket.

 

„D'you mind if I get that?"

 

„No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life."

 

He takes the device and answered it.

 

„What do you want? ...SAY THAT AGAIN!"

 

The three friends looked at him, frowning.

 

„If you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you.

Wait."

 

The criminal lowers his phone and lifted his eye to Sherlock.

 

„Sorry, wrong day to die. You'll be hearing from me."

 

Just as he said that, he was gone.

John sighed out a relieved breath, glad that they were safe for now but

looking at Sherlock for an answer.

 

„What happened there?"

 

„Someone changed his mind. The question is: who?"

 

Without the two of them knowing, (y/n) looked up and breathed out.

 

 

„I owe you one, Irene."


	15. Life went on

Life went on in the life of the inhabitants of 221B & 221C Baker Street.

People came and went, searching for someone to solve their cases, most

of them being just plain for the consulting detective himself.

Of course, in between the former mentioned were also interesting ones,

which John named and described in his Blog as 'Tilly Briggs Cruise of Terror'

and 'The Geek Interpreter' and some more. 

And while Sherlock himself sulked over the fact that Johns blog

got more attention than his blog about tobacco ash,

he certainly didn't mind one thing: the woman living in 221C

with handy skills for field work and the wit of

a clever human.

The curly haired himself never mentioned it, why should he?

In his eyes it was obvious that he liked, maybe even found

joy in the company of his old friend.

He saw her as an important asset of his life, and so

he took her with him to one of his more exciting jobs.

 

Together, the three uncovered the truth behind the

'Hat-man, Robin and Mystery-Girl'-case, as

John liked to call it. With Sherlock wearing a deer-stalker,

John a cap and (y/n) a bowler for women, they followed Lestrade 

down a corridor to the front of the building.

  
  
(A/N: In case you don't know how a bowler looks like, here's a picture:)

 

"Sherlock, it is very sweet of you to give me a cover, but this

thing won't hide a bit of my face."

 

"Of course it doesn't. I just thought it looks cute on you."

 

Stopping in their tracks Greg and John exchange a more than 

surprised glance, but quickly followed the, in their opinion,

perfect couple before the front door.

 

"I'm a private detective, the last thing I need is a public image."

 

And so the four went outside, being greeted by a dozen of 

photographers and news reporters.

 

* * *

 

 

(y/n) didn't mind the change of Sherlock personality at all,

in fact, she adored the new side of him.

Somedays he came back from a case and told her about his day

while preparing tea. Another day, when she layed on her couch

in the living room and he had nothing to do her best friend

would gently lift her up and pull her ontop of him, so that they could

discuss the plot of the book together.

 

...But on rare days she just wanted to strangle and cut off his balls.

With a spoon. Just like John.

 

"Can you tell me again why you just didn't want to come to this location?"

 

"There’s no point in me leaving the flat for anything less than a seven, we agreed.

Now, go back and show me the grass."

 

"When did we agree that?"

 

"Yesterday-"

 

"I wasn't even home then! I was in Dublin."

 

"Well, it’s hardly my fault you weren’t listening."

 

(y/n), even though she was amused by this, still looked mostly

annoyed into the little laptop camera.

 

"And why did I need to come here? I told you me and Mrs. Hudson wanted

to go out and have a ladies day!"

  
DI Carter, the leading detective of Scotland Yard for this case became bothered

by the bantering and decided to interrupt.

 

"You’ve got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver."

 

"Oh, forget him. He’s an idiot."

 

"He's a suspect!"

 

"Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness,

why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?

Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own,

the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition.

Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy-

 

Sherlock chuckled as he said the last part:

 

"-And you think he’s an audacious criminal mastermind?! Please,

even John would make a better criminal than him."

 

* * *

 

 

And then we have Mycroft. The big brother of Sherlock,

always serious, always calculating,

and a prick.

 

"'For (y/n): I hope you like your present.~ - MH'.

I should've never told him that I don't like raisins. Now he is sending

me some every week."

 

Walking through the corridors of Buckingham Palace she held up

a big pack of dried raisins. John, who walked calmly beside her,

starting chuckling at the new information.

 

"Next time I will send him some diet cake recipes."

 

While they exchanged a light laughter they arrived in a big room,

Sherlock sitting in his sheet and clothes for him to change in

lying on a glass table.

Composing themselfes they joined him, (y/n) sitting between the

two males, keeping a straight face while her and John glance at

the others apperance. 

Finally deciding to break the silence John coughed slightly.

 

"Are you wearing any pants?"

 

"No."

 

A moment later Sherlock turned and looked at the two, just as John and (y/n) also turned to look. Their eyes meet and they promptly bursted out laughing.

 

"What do you guys think: Are we here to see the Queen?"

 

Just then Mycroft stepped in.

 

"Apparently, yes."

 

John cracked up again and Sherlock promptly joined in while the (h/c) female chuckled. The three of them continue to giggle as Mycroft looks at them in exasperation.

 

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups? Oh, and by the way: How were the raisins, dear (y/n)?"

 

"Shush."

 

The next few minutes were used by Mycroft trying to convince Sherlock to put on the suit, 

being introduced to Harry the Equerry, an offered case and the youngest Holmes throwing a

tantrum about not wanting to have mysteries on both ends of his cases.

 

"Both ends is too much work. Good morning."

 

Just as he wanted to walk away in nothing but his sheets Mycroft purposely stepped onto it,

making his brother stagger and barely hold it just above his hip bones.

 

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up."

 

"Get off my sheet!"

 

"Or what?"

 

"Or I’ll just walk away."

 

"I’ll let you."

 

John glanced over to (y/n), who blushed slightly at the whole situation while

holding a hand before her mouth and looking outside the window.

Having compassion for her he quickly stepped into the bicker.

 

"Boys, please. Not here and not before her."


	16. Buckingham Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update, a longer one will follow tomorrow! 0:
> 
> Promised! :9

"Who. Is. My. Client?"

 

"Take a look at where you’re standing and make a deduction.

You are to be engaged by the highest in the land.

Now for God’s sake: Put your clothes on!"

 

Reluctantly did Sherlock dress himself, making

Mycroft pleased and (y/n) relieved.

Together the five of them settled down again and

talked about the case which included a person

well known to the (h/c).

 

Since corruption is a big word for such a

secret and shan't be every mentioned to outsiders,

the only option left was to assign Sherlock.

 

"What do you know about this woman?"

 

The consulting detective vaguely eyes the woman on the

photograph, not seeing anything familiar.

 

"Nothing whatsoever."

 

"Irene Adler..."

 

Seeing her picture (y/n) couldn't help but smile.

 

"She likes to call herself 'Dominatrix', however mostly known as 'The Woman'.

Beautiful, deceiving and cheeky. She does adore intelligent men and women."

 

Slight surpise is written across the mens faces, Mycroft being the first

to say a thing.

 

"I can tell you've already met her. She’s been at the centre of

two political scandals in the last year,

and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair

with both participants separately."

 

Not listening to his brother Sherlock stares unwavering

at the picture.

  
"Dominatrix..."

 

"Don’t be alarmed. It’s to do with sex."

 

"Sex doesn’t alarm me."

 

"How would you know?"

 

The younger Holmes raises his head and stares at his

brother before shooting a quick glance at the young woman beside him.

 

 


	17. The Dominatrix reveals herself

When they were done, the ways parted.

While John and Sherlock went back to their flat,

(y/n) told them she would meet the two at Irenes

and that they should go prepared - just in case of course.

 

And while she waited for them over ten minutes now,

the young woman grew impatient. Tapping her foot

repeatedly on the ground and checking her watch one more time

she sees them, the sight making her sigh.

 

"Sherlock what have you done now."

 

He expertly ignores her question, goes up to the camera

and presses a button.

 

"Um, sorry to disturb you. I’ve just been attacked,

and, um, I think they ... they took my wallet and...

and my phone. Please, could you help me?"

 

(y/n) just stood besides them, groaning into the palms

of her hands. How could he be this stupid?

 

Being introduced to what seems like Irenes secretary to John

searching the First Aid Kit, everything ran smoothly.

Sherlock seated himself on the couch, (y/n) on the armchair

besides it.

 

"This whole plan is unnecessary, Sherlock."

 

"Oh shut up."

 

The clicking of high heels coming closer let Sherlock fall back

into his role as victim. 

 

"Hello. Sorry to hear that you’ve been hurt. I don’t think Kate caught your name-"

 

Just as Irene walked confidently into the room, her eyes settled onto

the woman sitting in the middle of the room.

  
"(Y/n)..."

 

"It's nice to see you again, Irene."

 

"Mhhm."

 

The Dominatrix recovered quickly from the shock and resumed

what she had planned, that being coming closer to Sherlock

and straddeling him.

 

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face.

Would you like me to try? Or are you still shocked to see

a naked womans body for the first time, Sherlock Holmes?~"

 

"Miss Adler, I presume."

 

Narrowing her eyes, she lifted the white collar to her mouth and bit down onto it.

As Sherlock stared up at her, John walked into the room while carrying a

bowl of water and a napkin. His eyes are lowered to the bowl to avoid spilling its contents. 

However, he stoped in the doorway as he lifted his eyes and

saw the scene in front of him. Irene looked towards the former army doctor,

the collar still between her teeth.

He looked at her awkwardly, then down at the bowl before looking up again.

 

"Irene, John. John, Irene Adler. Sherlock, yes she is naked but please try not to stare."

 

"Are we jealous, my dear (y/n)?"

 

"Why of course not, I just try quicken things up since

we all have something to discuss, don't we?"

 

A mischievous smirk crossed Irenes face as she saw the evil glint in

(y/n)s eyes. Maybe she should go a bit further, just for the fun?

But not now. Yes, they did have something to talk about.

 

"Indeed. Please, sit down."

 

Eyes fixed onto the short male Irene took place in (y/n)'s lap.

After all she mostly wanted to play with the Sherlock Holmes.

 

Let the fun begin.~


	18. Naked talking

Sherlock was surprised by her more than

obvious intentions.

Mycroft may have told them some facts, even

experiences of some of his agents and spies,

but Miss Adlers approach was the compete opposite

of his expectations.

 

She sat self-assured, or more like predatory on (y/n)s lap,

an arm draped around the (h/c) like the cheshire cat

does the Dominatrix look in his direction.

 

Sherlock felt more than challenged.

On the one hand, he just couldn't deduce her.

Johns face shows, that he is more than uncomfortable,

as expected by an...

average human (in Sherlocks opinion unnecessary).

But the biggest eyeshore was the fact,

that Miss Adler dared to sit on (y/n)s lap

without shame or repent.

 

His eyes stared at her coldly by the attempt,

to find out something about her or her life.

 

„Do you know... the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?

However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait.

I think you’re damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power.

In your case, it’s yourself.“

 

Irene stood up, in which she gave (y/n) a

mischievous, but for the other eyes not visible

glimpse, and moved towards Sherlock.

As slow and clearly as possible did she lean down

beside his ear, a quiet whisper could be heard.

  
„Oh, and somebody loves you.“

 

„That's it, I go. John, call me later.

I need to get some things done.

Goodbye John, Sherlock."

 

Out of nowhere did the beforehand blocked woman stand up,

nodded nodded her friends a quick goodbye and moved

towards the door. However, just after she passed the naked woman,

did she stop.

 

„Irene, don't trouble those two too much.“

 

„(y/n)-“

 

„Sherlock, not now. I'll come back again later.

After all, I have something else to discuss with you.“

 

Without another word to loose did she walk out of the house,

with the others staring at her retreating form.

 


	19. Americans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will upload a longer part tomorrow. 0:

Going outside was planned. However, getting captured by american spies was not.

 

"Oh, look. We got us the biggest fish out there. Should give us a big payrise, don't you think, Miss (l/n)?"

 

The smoke alarm blared through the building as (y/n) is being dragged along back to the room.

 

"Neilson, long time no see. But what I do see is that you still wear that ugly toupée.

Didn't I tell you last time black hair would suit you much more?"

 

As the american men burst through the door, she saw John beside her, just as immobile as her.

Sherlock and Irene, who were talking just seconds ago also raised their arms in surrender.

Being led together all are forced to kneel down,

except Sherlock who was instructed to open the safe.

 

"I don't know the code-"

 

"Yes sir, you do."

 

Neilson stepped closer to (y/n), taking her hair brutally in one hand while

yanking her head back and pointing a pistol at her. 

 

"On three, I will shoot her. You wouldn't want that, do you?"

 

A devilish smirk crossed her face as she looked at Neilson.

 

"Wrong move."

 

Grabbing his arm she disarms him, shooting a surprised Neilson in the head.

John being a soldier headbutted the guy behind him.

While the american stumbled back Irene held out her leg for him to stumble over.

The last agent raised his gun and aimed it at (y/n).

 

"Die, sn-"

 

A quick head-shot also ended his life, Irene being the one killing him.

 

"I've become slow..."

 

Sherlock opened the safe and took a phone out of it.

 

"This is mine. Give it back."


	20. Gravestone Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still lazy...
> 
>  

"And now here I stand at your grave, old friend,

not even having the will to finish our walk down memory lane."

 

A cold wind blew past the woman,

making her red coat bend to it's will.

 

It had been less than a week since the gravestone was placed,

and she was there every day talking about anything,

but nothing at all the same.

 

"John has finally found a new girl named Mary.

I've met her once on the field back in the days...

a nice and beautiful woman... intelligent too.

She asked me to keep it quiet though."

 

She let out a quiet sigh.

 

"You would have liked her."

 

Grey clouds part slightly and let the dim sun shine through

as its few reys reached the pale face of (y/n).

 

"John cries every day since your fall,

even if he won't admit it.

Broken sobs and curses alike hall through the whole house.

Mrs. Hudson too is rather... upset about it."

 

 

 

 

As she was about to leave a dry chuckle escaped her throat.

 

 

 

 

"Nice job, Sherlock. See you soon."


	21. Small Update (Mini Chapter)

"Are you ready?"

 

"Ready for what? John or the rant that will rain down on me?"

 

Mary shoots a pointed look.

 

"He was just scared of loosing you. It still is fresh on his mind what happened three years ago."

 

The other woman lets out a long sigh before nodding and handing her the papers.

 

"Just try to calm him down first. I already have my hands full of appointments with Mycroft and his so called 'difficult tasks'. I do feel like he merely uses me to entertain himself."

 

At that the blonde laughs. Her and the now in a red coat wrapped up woman got closer with Sherlock not being there anymore. And while John still doesn't know anything about her past, (y/n) is saddened to hear her friend talk about her dead comrades.

"You know what, I will call him right now. We will see each other tomorrow. He did promise me a quiet dinner tonight."

"Have fun then. Until tomorrow, Mary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update this sooner but got... distracted.


End file.
